Rescue
by BookWorm39
Summary: Thomas knew this job was dangerous. He'd put up with it for months now. He'd just been hoping he could keep his new coworker safe. (Based on an AU of my 'Ghost in the Machine' series. Rated M for language and gore.)


_A/N: Hey guys! I know it's been a while since I've updated 'Ghost in the Machine,' but I promise, I'm working on it. In the mean time, I wrote this back in October and posted it on Archive Of Our Own, but I never shared it here. So, have this to hold you over!_

 _The basics of this AU is that Thomas worked at the night shift solo for a while, but the boss hired another night guard to work with him-that other night guard being Mike. I kinda like this AU, so tell me if you want more of this!_

* * *

He should be out there. He should be trying to save him. But here he was. Cowering under the desk, the sounds of his coworker's screams in his ears.

Well. It _was_ screaming. The pizzeria had gone quiet a few minutes ago. He prayed that he'd just been worn out, and not...

Oh, who was he kidding? Schmidt was dead.

He'd been hoping, praying, that nothing like this would happen. He was a good kid-sure, he had a bit of an attitude on him, but friendly nonetheless. Liked to joke around, sometimes teased him by calling him 'Old Man' ( _oh, hush, Michael, there's only 13 years between the two of us,_ ) but he was a quick learner and knew when to step up.

Unfortunately, his reflexes still needed some work.

* * *

 _"Pirate's Cove is empty!" Mike yelled, dropping the tablet suddenly._

 _"G-got it!" Thomas darted towards the west door, but slowed down when he saw Mike pass him. Eh, sure, why not let the kid handle the door-_

 ** _"SKREEEEEE-"_**

 _"JESUS!"_

 _Thomas yelped, jumping back with fear, until it hit him what was happening in front of him: Bonnie had a vice grip on Mike's arm, and hauled the younger man off, kicking and screaming._

 _"No!" Thomas raced to the door, hoping to pull Mike back in, but in a flash, Foxy was flying at him. The hook sunk into his shoulder, carving a hole in his flesh as it did. Thomas gasped in pain, pulling himself free, but injuring his arm more as he did. The rebound was enough to push Foxy back through the door, which Thomas closed with his good hand. It was then when he remembered._

 _He heard an awful groaning coming from the other door-Chica. He forced himself to shut the door, the horrible reality sinking in._

 _Schmidt was still out there._

* * *

He'd tried not to get attached to him. He'd thought, maybe, if he came off as cold and uncaring, the new kid would see the conditions, see his co-worker, and quit before anything happened.

So he tried ignoring any attempt at small talk. He tried being blunt about the animatronics. Hell, he'd never used Mike's first name-it was always 'Schmidt,' or sometimes 'Kid.' Thomas almost never called people by last name alone, and there wasn't any obvious care in the way he said the nickname, but if it kept him safe, it was worth it, right?

He kept it up until the night Mike called him out for it. He yelled, calling Thomas a 'selfish son of a bitch,' but Thomas could see the tears in his eyes.

"I just want a friend in this. Is that too much to ask?"

That was the final straw. Thomas opened up to Mike after that, and while the two weren't close, per say, things went smoother from then on.

Until tonight.

* * *

 _Thomas grabbed the tablet, wincing at the pain and warm blood running down his arm. In the dining area, he could just make out the shape of a man being dragged towards the backroom by Bonnie and Freddy. The cameras' sound was shot, but he could still faintly hear Mike, crying for help._

 _"Let me go, please! I don't wanna die! O-old man-Thomas! Help me, please! Thomas!"_

 _Thomas's knees buckled beneath him. He was hurt badly, and even if he could save Mike with one arm, he was pinned down by the other two._

 _Hot tears welled up, and his whole body shook. "I-I can't! I'm sorry!" He didn't knew if Mike could even hear him, but he didn't care._

 _"Mike… I'm sorry."_

* * *

Now, finally, he heard the chime of the clock. Six A.M. They did it.

Well… he did it.

He forced himself to his feet. If he didn't go get his body, it would just disappear, thanks to their boss. He thought he remembered Mike saying he wasn't close to his family, but surely they'd want something to bury, right?

He slowly made his way to the backroom, his stomach churning at the thought. He had to. Nobody else would. Mike deserved to be remembered.

The door creaked as it opened, and Thomas's senses were assaulted by the aftermath of the night. The whole room smelled of blood, and a puddle of red was just visible around an old Freddy Fazbear costume. The head was jostled, like somebody tried and failed to force it on, and Thomas could make out a human inside the suit.

He knelt down in front of the bear suit, choking back tears. This was it. Mike was gone. He'd tried to stop anyone else from dying, and he failed. He reached out, resting a hand on top of a paw. "M-Mike, I'm sorry…"

The paw twitched.

Thomas screamed, jerking away, but fear quickly gave way to hope. "Oh, g-god… Mike?"

He heard a pained wheeze from inside the suit, followed by a harsh whisper. "Help…" The paw Thomas had touched planted itself on the floor, as if trying to push the bloody suit to its feet, but Thomas grabbed it.

"D-don't move. You'll hurt yourself m-more." Oh, god, he was alive. "H-hang on, I'll get you out of there." He gaze traveled over the suit, and he settled on removing the head first. He reached up, grabbing hold, and muttered, "Uh, this might hurt a bit."

"I don't care… Please, just get me out of here…" Thomas's heart ached; he wished there was some way he could comfort the young man, but the only thing he could do was get him out. He took a deep breath, and pulled.

Almost immediately, Mike was crying out in pain. "Ow-fuck! Stop, wait!" Thomas quickly pulled his hands away, and he could hear both of their labored breathing. "Thomas," Mike said hesitantly, "I-I think it's stuck… Oh, god, I think it's stuck in my face."

The older man felt his stomach churn. Something in the mask must've embedded itself in Mike's flesh. "I-I-I can try to pull it out…" The idea made him sick, but it could be the only way.

"Fuck…" There was a pained sigh, then a weak "Fine." Thomas reached into the mask as carefully as he could, trying to ignore Mike's whimpers and sobs. So often did his coworker put up a tough, brave act… It broke his heart to see him like this. To know he could have saved him, if he was faster-

No. Time to feel bad later. You have to get him out of there.

After a few agonizing seconds, he found a piece of metal that felt sticky with blood. He felt along its length, finding that one end led into the mask, and the other-

He felt Mike shaking under his blood-soaked hand. He couldn't tell exactly where on Mike's face he was, but he was sure this was what was keeping him from getting the mask off. "M-Mike, I'm going to pull it out.." He tried to keep his voice steady, but it was quite an effort. "Just hang on, alright?" Mike didn't say anything, but he could've sworn he heard a soft 'm-hm' from under the mask.

It was horrible. His friend was clearly fighting back screams of pain, instead letting out choked sobs, and Thomas felt his own eyes welling with tears at the other's pain. The flesh under his hand was soft and warm-sickeningly so. Finally, Thomas felt the metal barb pull out, and he slipped his hands out. "alright," he muttered, wiping the blood off of his hands with his shirt. "L-let's try again."

Luckily, that was the hard part. Within a few moments, he had the mask off. Mike's black hair was matted to his head, and his glasses were nowhere in sight. Thomas scanned the suit, trying to find the best way to get the rest of it off, when he heard a whimper. "Thomas… why can't I see you?"

He had to admit, he'd been avoiding looking at Mike's face-he didn't want to see what had happened to him. But Thomas forced himself to look up, opening his mouth to tell Mike he'd lost his glasses-and froze.

"Thomas… Thomas, what's wrong? Wh-why can't I see right?"

"...J-j-j-just hang on."

"What? No, what's happening?"

"Mike. Please, just, uh, l-l-let me get you out of there first."

"Thomas-"

 _"Stop."_ God, Mike was making this hard on him. But he had to get him out first.

Thomas forced himself to focus on getting his friend free. Every time Mike tried to ask him what was wrong with his vision, he was cut off. It was for the best.

It was a bit of a hassle walking Mike out of the backroom, but they did it. Thomas squeezed the young man's hand, trying to offer support. "H-hang on, I'm going to c-call an ambulance."

"Wait." He felt the grip on his hand tighten, and he turned hesitantly to Mike, who was borderline hyperventilating. "Thomas, please, you're just scaring me." He looked up, and Thomas fought back the urge to gag as he met Mike's eyes.

One had a bit of bloody hair blocking it, but he could still see the tears against the bright blue. The other was wide, blood pouring from where the metal had pierced it. God only knows how Mike was unaware of the mutilation-maybe he was in so much pain, it didn't stand out. Maybe he was in shock.

Either way, he was clearly on the verge of breaking down as he begged, "Thomas, please, why can't I see right?"

* * *

He had a feeling he wouldn't see the kid again. No, he wasn't assuming he'd die-he had him out quickly enough, he should've survived.

But Mike would most likely not be working at Freddy's anymore. Why would he? He'd nearly died. Even Freddy's would let him quit if he wanted to after that, and he should take that chance. It was better for him.

He hadn't gotten a new partner yet. Whatever. He saw what happened when he let other people work the shift. It was better this way.

He kept telling himself that, but truth be told, he didn't like working alone again. It was hard, and... lonely.

He missed Mike. Missed the teasing, the jokes-missed the closest thing he had to a friend at Freddy Fazbear's.

So it's easy to see how he had mixed emotions when a young man walked into the office one night, a pad of gauze taped over his left eye, and said, "Sorry I'm late, old man."


End file.
